The sun sank red over the great sea, its light bouncing off every small ripple of water, making the ocean look like a carpet woven from diamonds. The shore met the shallows, the shallows met the deeps. The Murlocs scoured the coral, the Naga skimmed the surface. On the beach the buccaneers made their fires, hitched up their tents and settled down for another night in the vale. All of this was meaningless to Sertah, as she was, knelt in prayer at the spring of sacred water. The aging witch couldn’t speak with her ancestors here, they were on the other side of the sea, but still the spring was a place that she could talk with the spirits of the jungle. The animal souls, the elemental phantoms and the ancestral troll ghosts that inhabited the vale.The hefty wooden mask lay docile at her feet, she had subdued it with the help of enchantment, but it was volatile, and would likely not stay sleeping for long. She sat in thought, searching for a way to make this wooden warrior fight for her, not fight against her. If there was some ways to make the incorporeal spirits of Antu’Rah inhabit these masks, then there might be a way to protect the Valley when she wasn’t there to do so.

“These guardians can be my legacy” She spoke softly, “The sanctity of the valley can be enforced when I am gone”“First you sought our acceptance, and we gave you this. Now you seek to enslave us in wooden carvings?” An unseen voice spoke suddenly, sending colourful birds spilling and whirling from the trees above, “My brothers of fire will not accept such a charge.”“Very well.” Sertah spoke without surprise; the spirit’s hostility was not unusual, especially to a foreign witch. “But know that if the valley cannot be protected, it will fall again, and you will not be oppressed by us, rather encompassed by the spirits of earth and wind once again.”“We do not owe our freedom to you, mortal; we were on the verge of victory over the others”“When we came, the valley was in a state of such imbalance, that is why I chose the greatest among us to be the ward of fire, I knew that only a powerful soul could restore you to your place.” The wind stirred, and blew in a new direction. Sertah’s ears twitched. She sniffed the air. “T’zak sulf’tak nak dans” She spoke in Ignan, the language of the fire spirits. The silence that followed was long and terrible. “You are no spirit, I can smell your flesh, troll.”“I thought you might have grown senile, but you are still sharp as ever” A different voice spoke, feminine but harsh, with still no body to be seen. All at once Sertah seemed panicked, she left the mask where it was, and rushed over the bridge. The witch had reached the other side of the spring water when the ground beneath her ignited, sending a pillar of flames spiralling upwards. The fire scorched her robes and licked at her skin. Sertah span around where she stood, and flung silvery balls of lightning blindly.“Yala!”She screamed, “Who have you brought to do your work? I know that you could not have this mastery over fire!” Just as her words had started to echo around the ruined walls, low, dark clouds whirled into existence above her. They burst, sending molten rock shards flying downwards. Sertah waved a shield of crackling energy above her, deflecting most of the molten missiles. The attackers revealed themselves at the arch of the ruins. A young female troll, and an old male troll, he looked withered, his skin the colour of ash, his form frail, his purple drape hanging loosely from his body. His eyes were dull, whitened and blind. The young girl smiled and spoke. “The clan has put gold and glory on your name, mother. We are here to exact our revenge and collect our reward.” The old troll smiled too, and as Sertah looked at him, she saw that his bare feet crackled with living flame, the bottom of his robe’s scorched and blackened. “Dur'jai” She whispered “What has Yala done to you?”

“We found a body for him, witch. He wanted to walk the earth, so my fellow cultists killed an old troll, and put Dur'jai’s spirit in his body.Sertah’s face curled into rage. She ran towards the two trolls, her hand on the hold of her axe. Dur'jai raised his hand, and sent a fountain of flames forth from it. Sertah sliced through the blinding heat, her axe’s ice dispersing the flare, leaving only smoke. She lunged at Dur'jai, but was sent flying backwards and landed violently on her back. Yala peered down the edge of her blade at the witch, helpless and powerless. Such a powerful blow had stunned Sertah, it amazed her that her daughter could be so strong.“Tsk. You aren’t as strong as you were?” Yala sneered “We’ll take you now, back to somewhere you can rest. You’ll need all the strength you can.” Sertah looked up at the tower of a troll standing above her.“If you wanted my death.. why not strike me now?” Her voice was broken and quiet, her fall had crushed the air out of her lungs.“You forget Warpwood tradition sop easily, mother. Traitors are put to death, but are allowed to die fighting. You will fight me. And I will take your head back to silithus, and claim my reward.”

The light of the sun had long since faded away. The silver smile of Mu'sha bounced off every small ripple of water. The Murlocs scoured the reef, the naga skimmed the surface. And two trolls carried the limp, lifeless form of Primal Warpwood away, into the night.

Last edited by Sertah on Fri Mar 05, 2010 12:34 am; edited 1 time in total

Long ago, the Warpwood tribe of north feralas travelled to live in the highlands, where the Kaldorei had built a great walled temple to their moon goddess. The elves were accepting of the unassuming trolls at first, but when they started to hunt the hippogryph that lived there. The trolls had similiar principles to the druids of the kaldorei, but they still were unable to prevent their hostility. A large number of Warpwood were attacked and a village burnt to the ground. The tribe at the time had one leader, rather than the warlord and the witch of tradition. His name was Dur'Jai, a strong shaman of fire. Dur'Jai led hid people into battle against the Kaldorei, against incredible odds. Durjai led his attackers northwards, he and his shaman scorching the land as they retreated, leaving no food for the hunters. Near the base of a mountain, he led his final assault. The weakened night elves were defeated that day, but their leader, a powerful druid escaped by burning out Durjai's eyes with potent starfire. The troll warlord became a hero of Warpwood history. And after he died, he became a guiding elemental spirit. Long since then the shamans of the Warpwood have come to him in search of mastery over fire.